True story.

In every rejected migrant, it is Christ himself who knocks at the door of the community.

I only share the results of meaningful polls.

The church confesses.

I have a pair of Levis that tore in the crotch a week ago.

And now I know that I am not alone.

Mary Townsend:

[W]e are continually consenting to live in a smaller metaphysical universe, via a smaller stream of memory and sense. Why? Because it is easier, the alternative seems scary, and we’ve forgotten the difference. At times the phone has the imagined glamor of a cigarette we pick up to avoid the awkwardness of other people, and also, we not so secretly despair of recovering, thinking perhaps that alas, our brains are gone forever. To put this another way, I think we have a cow problem.

“I told them, ‘The bells don’t belong to the Maréchal, they belong to God. We ring them for God; otherwise not.’”

Vive la résistance ironique et paresseuse!